Playing with Fire
by Karateprincess67
Summary: Stella might be home from her undercover assignment, but that doesn't mean life is any easier. Any future worth having comes with a price. The sequel to "In Another Life"! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1- Somewhere Only We Know part 1

Somewhere Only We Know

 _ **A/N: Hi! Welcome to "Playing With Fire," the sequel to "In Another Life"! If you're coming here first, I'd recommend back-tracking a bit because most of the plot here will be a direct result of what happened in IAL, though I'll be drawing on plenty of other things from earlier in the show as well. My main goal for this story is to tie up the big loose ends from the show, like what happened to Claire and more of an exploration of Stella's heritage (which I'll continue from "I Will Follow Where You Lead Me"). For now, you can consider this to be my version of CSI: NY's last season, but I have a feeling I won't be finished with these characters at the end of this story, either =]. All right, let's get started with Mac and Stella's weekend vacation! Enjoy!**_

* * *

 _Previously in In Another Life…_

 _Ten, nine, eight, Mac watched as the seconds ticked down on his watch, his fingers hovering over the power button on his computer. Seven, six. Just a few more seconds with no case and he'd be home free. Or vacation-free, as Stella had put it the week before. As soon as he exited the building, he caught a glimpse of her across the street, leaning lithely against his truck. The sling on her arm was gone and the scars- the visible ones at least- had healed and faded completely from her face. Even from this distance, her eyes sparkled at him and his heartbeat picked up just slightly at her playful smile._

 _"This was a fantastic idea, Stella."_

 _"I think we both deserve it. By the way, where are we spending our weekend away?"_

 _Instead of answering, Mac used one hand on the small of her back to lead her around the car to the passenger-side door. "That would just ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?"_

 _As he crossed in front of the truck, he reached once more for his jacket pocket and his hand closed around the little blue Tiffany's box inside. She'd joked once that she could find them from the moon and he couldn't help but wonder if she'd figured out his plan._

 _Just months ago, she would have hardly let herself think of something beyond her assignment; the future seemed foolish to even consider. But now, as they rolled the windows down and let the early fall breeze rush through the car, the future seemed reachable, as if it were just down the road, right there on the horizon._

"Stella, what are you doing?" Mac asked, eyeing her in the passenger seat beside him with her nose nearly pressed against the window.

"Watching the headlights," she answered without turning around. "Have you noticed how the edge of the light follows all the divots in the ground? Headlights don't do that in the city. Look!" She turned to him and pointed eagerly across his chest out of his window at the passing forest.

He chuckled and took her hand. "I would if I could, but I'm trying to focus on the path so we can get to where we're going in one piece."

"Kill joy," she muttered, but a second later she continued cheerfully, "speaking of, you still haven't told me where we're going. Though, considering where we are now-" she squinted out the windshield at the dark woods that gave the ominous impression that it would swallow them if Mac didn't maneuver the truck correctly "-I think we may have stumbled into a horror movie."

Mac laughed again. "Don't worry, Stell. You'll love it. Plus," he added after a short pause. "we've survived plenty of harrowing situations worse than any horror movies I've seen. I think we'd be okay."

"Seriously though," she continued as the truck rocked and bounced along the dirt path, "Are you sure you know where we're going? There's really no shame in being lost. And I'm sure Bigfoot would have no trouble giving us directions."

He scoffed good-naturedly. "Please, Bigfoot hasn't been sighted around here in ages." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stella's lips twist from surprise to bewilderment to mock-annoyance. Foregoing the seriousness he said, "Yes Stella. I promise I know exactly where we're going. In fact, we're just about there…now." He slowed their speed to a crawl with the gearshift to give the Denali's suspension a long-overdue rest and threw on the highbeams. Surrounded by trees and rolling hills that stretched on for miles was a small clearing and a cozy-looking cabin.

"Mac!" Stella gasped and sat forward in her seat, already going for the seatbelt release. "It's perfect!"

"You haven't seen inside yet."

"I don't have to," she opened her door and stepped out onto the dirt driveway that led to the cabin, inhaling deeply. "God, I forgot air can smell this _good._ And when was the last time you saw this much green?" She inhaled again, this time tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

Mac came around the truck and wrapped her jacket around her shoulders. "Ready to see the inside?" he asked, his hand finding its usual place on the small of her back.

"Lead the way," she smiled and leaned backwards slightly against his hand. Their shoes crunched on rocks and dirt as they made their way to the front porch where a comfortable-looking porch swing was suspended from the roof. Mac unlocked the door and held it open for her so she could step into the cabin first.

"Oh Mac," Stella breathed over the clacking of her heels on the hardwood. The first thing she noticed about the cabin was the amount of space that stretched before them. Furniture was placed in exactly the right positions: not too close to be crowded and not too far apart to make the place look like a museum. The first floor seemed to be completely open, save for the walls and door that she assumed blocked off a bathroom. Nothing separated the kitchen from the living room except a sturdy granite island and the back of one heavily-upholstered, chocolate-colored sectional. Plush rugs sprawled over the dark hardwood floors. Stella was sure her old apartment could fit into this place at least three times and it wouldn't be a challenge.

She scanned the floor-to-ceiling bay windows that opened the room to the forest beyond where the blinking glow of the season's last fireflies greeted her. A massive stone fireplace yawned from across the sofa and the kitchen sparkled with stainless steel pots and pans. Stella walked to the sofa and patted the fabric experimentally. She was right- it felt every bit as inviting as it looked.

She thought back to the mansion that served as mob headquarters in Greece where gigantic rooms like this just made her feel cold in all their empty grandeur. There was something comforting about the amount of space here though: it was cozy; there was no other word to describe the warmth she felt just standing in the middle of it. As she took it all in, she realized why she was instantly comfortable here: it reminded her of Mac. Everything in this room was so _him_ that she felt surrounded by him. Leave it to him to find something so incredibly perfect.

"So, what do you think?" Mac asked finally from behind her.

She turned to him in awe. "Mac, this is…how did you…?"

"My grandparents owned this place when I was a kid and my dad used to bring me out here to hunt with my grandfather. My mom's parents had a place similar to this in a suburb close to Chicago and I loved going to a field close to their house to read or make up games, but coming out here was always a treat for me. It wasn't nearly as big or well-furnished back then though."

"So this is _yours?"_

"Oh no; my parents sold it around the time I was deployed to Beirut and the new landlords fixed it up. I still get a discount when I find the time to come up here, though."

"And here I thought we'd be staying in a tent," Stella teased.

"So you're happy?" His warm smile looked just a bit nervous as he caught her gaze.

She reached forward to touch his arm. "Ecstatic. It's all ours for the weekend?"

He visibly let out a breath he'd been holding, nodded, and took her hand. "Want to see the rest of it?"

"I'd love to!"

"My grandfather had a workshop out that door," he said, pointing to the garage as he led her around the house. "He always made my Christmas presents in there from a huge stack of wood he kept out back." As they continued their circle of the first floor, he added, "my grandmother always wanted a study," he nodded toward the sundeck, "I think she wanted to save that space for it because of the natural light."

He led her up the stairs to meet the three bedrooms and two immaculate full baths- she lingered with a longing glance when she saw the Jacuzzi in the hall bathroom, which got a chuckle from Mac. He pulled on her hand gently, placed a hand on her side, and lowered his voice half an octave to whisper in her ear, "The one in the master bedroom is bigger." She loved it when his eyes sparkled like that.

"This used to be my room." He'd stopped in the doorway of a room that was clearly meant for a child, but was by no means small. A full bed was wrapped in dark green sheets and stood opposite from a wooden dresser and a desk with a small collection of books, supported by golden bookends in the shape of ships. "Oh God, I can't believe this is still here," Mac said from the nightstand as Stella perused the books. She turned and saw him holding a miniature wooden soapbox derby car almost reverently in his hand. "I made this with my grandfather when I was ten," he said simply and held it out to her. She took it gingerly and turned it over.

The blue and red paint was chipping a bit, but the wood had been sanded to perfection so the grain didn't rasp against her fingers. She gave one wheel a little flick and watched it spin without wobbling and smiled when she recalled his anecdote about competing in the soapbox derby with a car similar to this in Chicago. "He helped you build it?"

Mac nodded. "It was actually a prototype for my car in the race that year. We wanted to get the bugs out before we built the real thing."

As Stella handed the toy back to him and saw the glint in his eye, she could almost imagine him as a ten-year-old, standing at rapt attention and absorbing every instruction from his grandfather with his usual quiet excitement.

"What?" he asked, noticing her stare.

"You're happy," she answered quietly.

"I've wanted to show you this place forever," he said, "so now that we're here, yes, I'm wonderfully happy."

With another smile, she followed him down the hall to the master bedroom- their room. The queen-sized bed was made in a sapphire comforter with gold trim and the lamps on either side cast a warm glow on the pale blue walls. Like the furniture in the rest of the house, the wood was a high-quality, dark mahogany. Again, just for a moment, she was reminded of the opulence of the places she'd seen in Greece while undercover. But again, this room welcomed her as if she were at home.

She saw the open door to the bathroom and, remembering Mac's comment about the Jacuzzi, eyed it curiously. Her fingertips ran along the bedspread- which, she determined, was satin- on her way to take a peek inside. He hadn't been kidding earlier: the tan tile Jacuzzi took up half the bathroom in all its luxurious glory. She turned back to him and raised her eyebrows.

He grinned. "Go ahead. I'll get everything out of the car."

She squealed excitedly and only closed the door partially behind her.

"Towels are in the cabinet by the shower," he called. "Oh, and the floor's heated!" He chuckled to himself as he heard the jets turn on simultaneously with Stella's contented sigh.

When returned to the room after unloading the car and organizing the refrigerator with the supplies he'd brought, it was nearing eleven o'clock. He lugged their bags up the stairs and found Stella already asleep under the covers when he entered their room. He changed as quietly as he could and eased himself down on the bed next to her, brushing an errant curl off her forehead with two gentle fingers. As he pulled away, he was sure he saw one corner of her mouth turn up slightly in a smile. He settled down with her then, allowing the soothing smell of her cucumber soap to lull him to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2- Somewhere Only We Know part 2

Somewhere Only We Know

The next morning, Mac smelled breakfast before he was fully awake. Bacon, eggs, and French toast beckoned him to open his eyes and register that Stella was, surprisingly, already awake. His eyes widened when he checked his watch and noticed it was past nine. He followed the smell of her cooking down to the kitchen where he found her, still in her pajamas, humming and dancing along to the radio in the morning sun. He leaned against the banister and smiled as he watched her. She sashayed her hips and flipped her hair enthusiastically to the tempo of the song and turned around from the stove, holding a frying pan.

"Mac!" She yelped in surprise, "how long have you been there?"

"Just woke up," he kissed her good morning across the island and grinned at her when he pulled away. "I couldn't resist."

"Breakfast or my dancing?" She teased.

He raised his eyebrows pointedly and leaned in for another kiss when she laughed.

"How many slices of bacon do you want?" She pushed at least four onto his plate before he held up his hand. "The waffles are almost done, too."

"Mmm," he replied through a mouthful of bacon, "You really went all out with the spread here."

"Says the man who brought an entire grocery store to put in the fridge. Did I see a filet mignon in there?"

"I wasn't going to let you starve."

She shook her head with a laugh and sat down on a stool across from him. "You really know how to treat a girl."

"I seem to remember you saying that after I bought you a hotdog for dinner at that dog show," he said pensively. "Now how am I going to judge your standards?"

"Guess you're just going to have to figure it out the hard way." She winked as she held up her glass of juice to meet his. "So, any plans for today?"

"How does hiking sound? There's a great view of the valley a few miles north of here."

"Perfect. It's a good thing I made breakfast," she answered cheekily.

Armed with lunch an hour later, Mac and Stella locked up the cabin and started into the woods.

"So," Stella started as she took Mac's hand to negotiate rocks and fallen tree branches, "did you used to hike out here with your grandfather, too?"

"All the time. We're actually close to the place where he took me target shooting and the place where I shot my first rabbit. Here," he stopped and pointed. "He used to set up the targets right over there so we could shoot from over there. I think the trees took more of a beating than the targets did the first couple of times out."

She laughed. "You're saying you weren't always a master of everything?"

Mac snorted amusedly. "No, no I wasn't. He taught me everything I know. Him and my dad."

Stella ghosted a hand over his shoulder blades. "You clearly learned from the best."

He returned her smile and continued on the trail. "Did I ever tell you about the time that my grandfather almost fought a bear?"

"You're kidding."

"No, really. I was maybe twelve or thirteen when the three of us came up here for a few days. At first, I figured we were going hunting again, but it turned out that they wanted to take me hiking to show me different species of plants. So, we were on this trail for maybe two hours when we stopped for lunch. My dad and I found a log to sit on, but my grandfather got distracted and went about fifty yards ahead of us. I think he wanted to find some sort of rare flower. Anyway, he crouched down to look at it and I was busy looking in my bag for my extra water bottle when my dad put his hand on my shoulder. I was about to ask what was going on when he shook his head and whispered, 'don't yell or make any sudden moves.'

"Then he called to my grandfather, 'Dad, I want you to get up slowly.'

"My grandfather either didn't hear him or ignored him because he said, 'McKenna, bring Mac over here to see this.'

"Of course, my dad didn't move and he said, 'Dad, stop talking and look up.'

"When he did there was this huge black bear, standing on its hind legs and staring at him. I expected him to be as terrified as I was, but he stared right back at it. They just looked at each other for a few second until the bear snorted, flicked one of its paws, like a wave, and walked away. I asked him about it later and he laughed, like it was completely normal that he'd come that close to a bear."

Stella smiled. "I've always wished I had stories like that from when I was a kid, but the best I've got is when I got into a fight with Bobby McFarlane at St. Basil's." Mac raised his eyebrows and she shrugged. "He'd been stealing things from everyone for months and I was tired of no one ever doing anything about it." She thought about it for a moment, "Granted, he was about the _size_ of a bear, so maybe it is comparable." Mac laughed and gave a gentle tug on her hand to propel them both further down the path. After another few minutes of trading stories, the trees opened into a clearing at the top of a cliff.

"We didn't have anything like this at St. Basil's," Stella gasped. She walked past Mac slowly onto the open air to take in the full view of the forest below them. The sun shone brightly in a clear sky and a light breeze fluttered around them. "Oh Mac, look!" She reached back for him as she pointed to a flock of birds taking off from the top of an evergreen tree below them. "This is…it's…wow," she trailed off with a shake of her head and breathed in the breeze as it blew by them again.

She relaxed against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Can you imagine the sky out here at night? All those stars…"

"We can see it tonight, I'm sure."

"I don't want to go back yet. Let's stay for awhile."

"As long as you want," he answered in her ear.

They settled down on the grass and enjoyed the afternoon in contended silence. Every now and again, Mac would take his eyes off the endless expanse of trees to look at Stella. Sure, they'd been to crime scenes in places like this, but it was difficult to appreciate the peacefulness when a dead body took precedence. He figured that was why he'd never seen her look quite this serene before. Her eyes were wide open, as if they were trying to absorb the image of everything around them, but the look in them told him it wasn't the frenzied type of analytical observation she used at crime scenes. Instead, she'd turn her head in one direction, cataloging everything she could take in about it for several minutes before moving on. Her breathing was so deep and even that he thought she might be trying to capture the clean air for when they had to go back into the city. He found himself wondering if he actually _could_ bottle it for her so she could smell it again whenever she wanted.

The past couple of months since she'd returned from her assignment had been both wonderful and difficult. Neither of them were strangers to the dark sides of their jobs, but that didn't mean any of it got any easier. Stella still had plenty of nightmares about her time undercover. She'd told him one night that she was fine during the day if she was busy. It was the times when things got quiet that she worried about: she'd said as soon as things quieted down, her head was a bad neighborhood to be in.

He supposed the scariest part of the things she told him weren't the actual experiences- he'd had to do awful, morally-questionable things and face down impossible demons, too- but it was the fact that he understood exactly what she was talking about that shook him so violently. He identified with it so fiercely that it frightened him- Stella wasn't supposed to feel that way. She was supposed to be the one who was optimistic to a fault. She was supposed to be the one who could rise above all the negativity and pull everyone up with her.

That was why they'd ended up in the woods at his family's old cabin: he was all-too familiar with the type of quiet she talked about and he wanted to remind her that there was another way. And to his immense relief, it already seemed to be working. They'd gotten through the night without any panic attacks and that contented look hadn't left her face since they first pulled up in front of the cabin. As he watched her, he finally saw the chaos in her head quieting down with no threat of returning as long as they were there. Sitting beside her in the grass, he forgot what it felt like to be haunted by the time they'd spent apart and his helplessness of not being able to do anything for her until it was too late. The breeze and Stella's presence next to him reminded him that they would face this like they did with everything else: together. _It's the little victories,_ he thought and kissed the crown of her head.


	3. Chapter 3- Somewhere Only We Know part 3

Somewhere Only We Know

"Mac, at least let me do the dishes," Stella insisted that evening as he began clearing their plates from the table after dinner. "You're supposed to be on vacation too, you know."

"It's all right, Stell. I've got it."

"But you cooked. I'll clean up."

He snatched a bowl out of her reach before she could go for it. "Nope. You said you wanted to look at the stars earlier, so go ahead and I'll meet you out on the porch in twenty minutes."

At first, she looked like she wanted to argue again, but, realizing the futility of her efforts, she gave in. "All right. I'll get the blanket."

Mac smiled as he watched her fold herself under the afghan on the porch swing. He finished up the last of the dishes in record time, wanting nothing more than to be out there with her, and hurried up to their room where he'd left his jacket. He pulled out the little blue box from the pocket; he'd planned to do this today, but he still had to stomp on the nerves that threatened as he looked at the sparkling jewels between his fingers before slipping it into his pocket. Despite his nerves though, he knew he was neither hopeful nor optimistic about this last special thing he'd planned for her; he was _sure_ that this was what he wanted, much like he'd been before having a similar conversation with Claire. He knew they both had a long way to go with processing what had happened while Stella was undercover, but he knew that wouldn't deter either of them. And he couldn't think of a better way to do it than this.

Stella sat wrapped in the blanket on the porch swing, amazed at the sheer number of stars she saw above her. When she was a child, a place like this, so still and serene, seemed like something out of a fairytale. Somewhere in a world that wasn't hers, there was so much space and fresh air and peace. She remembered Mindy telling her once about all the stars you could see out in the country. She called them lights from Heaven and said that as long as there were stars, they had someone watching over them.

She'd always wanted to believe Mindy- it was a comforting sentiment at the very least- but she'd come to doubt it as she got older. She couldn't see any stars in the city and she remembered thinking that maybe Heaven and guardian angels the nuns always talked about where only for people who could see the stars. Even after Professor P entered her life, ironically as her "guardian angel", she still couldn't be sure that a place like this existed, or if she deserved to find it. Especially after Greece… _no_ , she thought, and shoved the memories firmly away.

"Hey," Mac greeted her as he stepped through the front door.

She wordlessly opened the blanket for him and shifted so he could sit behind her on the swing. She sighed, settling back against him and allowing his warmth to envelope her.

"Which constellations have you found so far?" His breath was warm against her ear.

"Andromeda," she pointed to the left. "And Draco."

"There's Pegasus," he said, twisting a bit to see the edge of it from under the porch roof.

"Gemini."

"What about that one? Just below Draco."

"Hmm, I'm not sure. It looks kind of like a turtle. Ooh, how about that one?"

Mac squinted and leaned over her shoulder. "A pig riding a donkey?"

Stella laughed. "And that one by Andromeda is a morbidly obese whale with a gimp fin."

"How about that one?" Mac murmured after a short pause.

Stella leaned across him, craning her neck to see past the roof. "Which one? Where are you looking, Mac?"

His hand emerged from under the afghan, holding the sparkling diamond and emerald ring up to her. "Right here."

Her breath caught and she turned in his arms to stare at him. "Mac? Is this…what I think it is?"

He nodded and took a deep breath, steeling himself. "We've been talking about it and…you know how I feel about you, Stella. You also know that I'm not very good at putting it into words," she laughed through the tears already glistening in her eyes. "But this question I'm going to ask you requires that I try, so…I could search all of the adjectives in every language we both know, but I don't think a word exists that can describe just how extraordinary you are. For the past fourteen years, you've been a constant in my life and, even at the lowest points, I couldn't imagine a future where you weren't by my side. You are my partner in every sense of the word. So, Stella—"

Ignoring the tears, Stella seized his face with both hands and pulled him in for a searing kiss. When they broke apart, Mac leaned his forehead against hers. "Was that a yes?"

Stella sniffled a laugh. "Yes, yes of course, Mac." She slid a hand to the back of his neck and kissed him again as he slipped the ring on her finger, coming up for air briefly a few moments later. He eyed her curiously as she stood from the porch swing, held out a hand, and bit her lip. The pointed look shining in her eyes kicked his heart into overdrive as he joined her.

Although he wasn't usually one for over-zealous displays of affection, he found that he couldn't stop himself in that instant. Forgoing taking her outstretched hand, he pushed her firmly against the side of the cabin. His fingers found her waist as he kissed her again, scratching his nails lightly just under the hem of her sweater.

Stella gave in to a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. She hummed into the kiss and allowed her fingers free reign to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. They broke apart, breathing heavily and, with blazing eyes, came to a silent agreement. Disentangling herself from him long enough to take his hand and lead him back inside the dark cabin, Stella only vaguely registered the slam of the door as Mac used her back to close it behind them.

She forgot about the stars and the blanket still on the porch swing and all the reasons why they'd waited for this because finally- _Oh God, finally,_ she thought-his hands were on her. He was her only grasp on reality as his hands stroked, kneaded, positively burned her waist under her sweater. Between her back pressing an imprint into the mahogany and glass behind her and him against her front, all muscle and _Mac,_ she doubted she could have held back her whimper even if she'd tried.

Mac suppressed a groan against her lips, reveling in the sound. He trailed one hand up her side to her head, anxious to feel her curls possess his fingers. Wanting to be closer, he pressed her more firmly against the door and slid one leg between hers. _Oxygen be damned,_ he thought, refusing to allow his lips to leave hers.

Stella apparently had other ideas as she tilted away from the kiss. " _Mac,"_ she gasped. She felt his head dip to her throat, but before he could reach it, she pushed him against the wall on the landing to the stairs and tore at his shirt.

"Patience" was no longer a word in Mac's vocabulary as he watched her bite her lip in concentration and trace webs of fire on his bare chest. He could no longer hold back the growl that erupted from low in his chest and he reached for the hem of her sweater. Her eyes sparked at him, the look in them enough to keep him pinned to the wall without her having to use her hands. Though, he truly wished she would continue doing that: using her hands.

Stella smirked as she took a step back, drawing her sweater over her head at a maddening pace. Her breath caught when she saw his eyes sizzle with the effort it took him not to seize her again. She pressed against him, throwing the sweater aside and sighing as one hand kneaded her back while the other found her hip to pull her impossibly closer. She hummed against his pulse when his nails scratched lightly at the middle of her spine. His fingers traced the skin next to the clasp of her bra so she breathed "under," in his ear. Like she expected he wanted, his fingers dove under the strap.

She felt a spark at his insistence and had to wonder whether making it upstairs was going to have to wait for next time. She whimpered at the thought and breathed into his ear, "Touch me."

0o00o0

Later, after they'd finally made it upstairs, Mac couldn't help but berate himself for ignoring the cheesy, romantic evening he'd planned. They hadn't even had the chance to light the ridiculous number of candles on every available surface around them, _either_ time. Stella deserved the full romantic treatment, everything from the sappy love songs to the clichés in the books and the movies and he hadn't meant to be so- he searched for a word that wouldn't make him blush- _frantic._ But he'd taken one look at her face after she'd accepted his proposal and he'd been a goner. _Oh, hell,_ he thought as the embarrassment heated every inch of him anyway.

Stella hummed, half asleep on his chest with his hand resting on her back. "Stop thinking," she murmured. "I can hear it from down here."

He smirked- because of courseshe could- and went back to stroking her bare spine.

"Mm, better." She snuggled closer and moved her palm over his ribs slower and slower until she drifted off again.

And then he felt it: the knowledge that nothing would be out of place as long as he could lay with her and touch her in the early-morning haze. They'd get to the candles eventually anyway.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Okay, so I don't write smut (I do enjoy reading the good ones) so you'll just have to use your imagination to fill in the blanks! If you remember from IAL, Stella's been home (and living with Mac) for about 3-4 months, but considering how traumatized they were, I figured they'd wait a bit before the sex stuff, though it was absolutely inevitable ;) Also I have to say, it's good to be back; hope you're enjoying this so far!**_

 _ **PWF Soundtrack ("Somewhere Only We Know" parts 1-3): "Chasing Cars"- Snow Patrol, "Somewhere Only We Know"- Keane**_


	4. Chapter 4- Do You Hear Me Howling?

Do You Hear Me Howling?

"Hey Flack!" Danny hustled down the hallway at the lab, dodging techs carrying test tubes and evidence bags, to catch up with the other detective.

"Whoa," Flack turned and greeted him with a smirk. "Where's the fire? Want to be careful, Danny- don't want to hurt yourself."

"Funny," Danny retorted and tried to cover up his panting with an inconspicuous deep breath that didn't escape Flack at all.

"You need a minute? 'Cause I could go for a cup of coffee…maybe a danish right now." He was only half-joking; the early morning glare on the windows reminded him he'd skipped breakfast.

Danny chose to ignore him. "Did you get Mac's text this morning?"

"For that team meeting that starts in five minutes? Yeah, I got it."

"Do you think he caught a case at the end of his weekend? I mean, he and Stel have been gone for four days. What's so urgent?"

"It would be like them, wouldn't it? But no, not that I know of. You know, my money's on a kid."

Danny stared at him blankly.

"Oh come on, Danny. They've been living together since she got back. You don't actually think it's all been PG-rated, do you?"

"Ugh, Flack! They're like…another set of parents or something! I don't need to think about my parents doing the nasty!"

"Fifty bucks says I'm right."

Danny grimaced again, but held out a reluctant hand anyway. "Fine. Whatever. You're on."

Flack snorted at Lindsay's eye roll behind Danny as she came up behind them and tugged on his elbow. "Come on, children." She gave a mock sigh of annoyance as she marched them both down the hallway to Mac's office. Flack brought up the rear of the group to see Hawkes, Adam, and Sid already there, chatting animatedly with him and Stella.

"Oh good! Everyone's here," Stella said as they opened the door.

"What's going on, guys? Do we have a case?" Flack asked and leaned against the glass wall. He took in the sight of Stella leaning on Mac's desk while he stood next to her, trying to contain a smile. They'd only been away for four days, but the contrast was startling. He was used to seeing the tell-tale bags under their eyes and tension in their shoulders from lack of sleep and stress- hell, it was a look most of them sported more often than not- but not today. Flack could count on one hand the things that would make Mac actually look relaxed and well-rested and make Stella look content. He was sure that fifty bucks was his.

Mac waved them off. "No, no."

Stella chimed in, "Thankfully we didn't stumble on any homicidal maniacs on our vacation."

"Okay, so…you never call team meetings like this, Mac. Everything okay?" Lindsay asked.

Mac and Stella glanced at each other slyly. "You want to tell them or should I?" he asked, leaning close to her as if they were having some sort of private conversation, but didn't bother to lower his voice.

"They could guess. I'm sure they've come up with some creative ideas by now," she answered, playfully pretending to observe the nails on her left hand.

Lindsay was the first one to react to the sparkle on Stella's ring finger with a high-pitched squeal. "Oh my God! You're engaged!" She shot up from her seat on Mac's couch to gather them both in a tight hug. "Let me see! Let me see!"

Stella laughed as she let Lindsay manhandle her fingers to take a good look at the ring.

"Wow Mac," said Flack, peering over Lindsay's shoulder.

"Damn!" Danny said, "you've outdone yourself."

Hawkes clapped Mac on the shoulder. "So, did you set a date?"

"Where do you think you'll have it?" Lindsay was nearly bouncing on her toes in all her enthusiasm.

"Have you thought about the honeymoon?" Flack asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Mac grinned and held up a hand. "Not yet-"

"-but what we do know is that we want you all to be in the wedding party," Stella continued.

"No designated best man or maid of honor-"

"Because you're all family anyway-"

"We really just want you all to be there, without any labeled responsibilities," Mac finished.

"We're still going dress shopping, right Stell?" Lindsay asked

Stella gently disengaged herself from Mac's arm and took Lindsay's hands in her own. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Kiddo. Plus," she leaned in close to Lindsay's ear and whispered with a conspiratorial grin, "you're kind of my maid of honor by default anyway."

Lindsay squealed happily again. "Oh, we have so much to do! There's your dress, the venue, the flowers, the reception-"

Stella laughed. "Take a breath, Linds. We'll get to it."

"So Mac," Flack lowered his voice and took his chance, "there wouldn't happen to be three of you returning from this little vacation, would there?"

Danny surreptitiously leaned closer to hear better.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Flack," Mac said, glancing at Danny.

"But, you know, just between us-"

Mac eyed him suspiciously for a moment before it clicked. "Who'd you make the bet with this time?"

"Ha!" Danny jabbed a finger triumphantly in Flack's direction. "He guessed. You lose, Flack!"

"That's not a rule and you know it, Messer."

"Cut the crap, Flack. That's _your_ rule!"

Leaning against Mac's desk, Lindsay rolled her eyes at Stella, "So eloquent as always, aren't they?"

Flack frowned and mumbled what Mac thought were a few particularly colorful curses in Gaelic before he took out his wallet and slapped fifty dollars into Danny's outstretched hand. "Yeah, all right. But I'm gonna get you back for that, Messer. Don't think you're going to beat me on a technicality when it's for real."

"Sure I won't."

Flack rewarded Danny's comment with another icy glare and then clapped Mac on the shoulder. "Hey, I'm just happy you two crazy kids finally got it together."

"About time, too!" Hawkes called from across the office with a warm smile.

Through the team's laughter and teasing, an intern tapped on the office door and poked her head in. "Excuse me. This is for you, Detective Taylor." She marched quickly but confidently across the office and handed a large envelope to Mac.

"Thank you, Stacy." He peered at the package curiously.

"What is it?" asked Adam, craning his neck past his coworkers to try to see it.

"No clue. I'm not expecting anything."

"You don't know who it's from?" Hawkes asked.

Mac flipped the envelope over, but the only thing he could find was the address for the lab with his attention. "There's no return address." He reached for his letter opener.

"Sure there's no white powder in it?" joked Adam darkly, though Mac's stern glare schooled his teasing grin immediately. Stella was the only one who saw the twinkle of humor in his eye and had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from smiling. "Right, sorry."

The team watched as Mac tore the letter opener through the seal and turned the envelope over to catch whatever was inside in his open palm. All at once, they watched his face turn to pale stone.

"What is it, Mac?" Stella asked, circling the desk to join him by the computer. "Are those…tickets?" She wrinkled her nose at them.

"What'd they do to them?" Flack said, forcing back a gag. "God, that's nasty!"

The paper was crumpled, ripped, and covered in mold as if they'd been submerged in water and no one had taken the time to dry them off before shutting them away somewhere. Cutting through the mold were flowing strokes of a bright red marker.

"Is that a note?" Lindsay said, sliding between Flack and Stella to take a look. "I can't tell what it says. Adam?"

But before Adam could answer or hyperextend his neck, Mac answered gruffly, "It says, 'These look too important to lose.'"

"These are the opera tickets, aren't they?" Stella said with a note of pained recognition as she gingerly took them from him and dropped them back into the envelope, purposefully grazing his hand with her fingertips.

He nodded, his mouth flattening into a straight, hard line. "I tossed them into the bay before we left. I wanted to do our weekend right. I _proposed_ to you, Stella. I couldn't just-"

Her hand went to his back. "I know."

"I'm sorry, opera tickets?" asked Adam tentatively.

Mac sighed. "The morning of 9/11, I surprised Claire with tickets to an opera she'd been telling me about for weeks. It was all she could talk about. They were for that night." He bowed his head and Stella pressed her hand into his back firmly.

The office was silent for a moment as everyone joined in the impromptu moment of mourning for Claire. Stella caught Mac's pained, apologetic gaze and held it, willing him to understand that this was okay with her. She leaned in to his side and registered his almost-imperceptible nod; she just hoped he truly believed it.

"But you said you threw them in the Hudson," Danny piped up.

Flack picked up on Danny's train of thought. "Did you see anyone around at the time?"

"Was anyone following you?" Hawkes asked hurriedly.

"No, nothing like that," Mac met Stella's eyes still with that wordless apology.

She scratched the back of his head lightly with her fingers in what she hoped he'd understand as another gesture that this was okay. Apart from the fact that he may or may not have a stalker, of course. "Adam, run every test you can think of on these, would you? Let's stop this before it starts," she suggested, knowing it would make Mac feel more in control if something was being done about it.

"Yeah, yeah, on it," he said and darted out of the office.

"Stick them in evidence when you're done!" Mac called after him.

"Hey, you know, we could go canvas the area-" Flack said and Danny nodded in agreement.

"-Or maybe they have cameras that got some footage we can use," Hawkes jumped in. "I'll get in touch with security and see what I can dig up." He glanced at Stella and she gave a silent nod of approval.

"Yeah, good doc. And Flack and I can hit up the area, ask around-" Danny said as the three of them left together, brainstorming as they went.

"We'll let you know what we get!" Hawkes called back.

"You know, you should really sanitize your hands, Mac," Lindsay suggested over the clank of the closing door. "You were just touching all that mold."

"All right," he sighed and stood, glancing back at Stella as he followed Lindsay out.

She gave a firm nod and a smile that betrayed the anxiety twisting in her stomach. All of the contentment from their vacation had evaporated and she had a feeling that they weren't going to find it again anytime soon.

0o00o0

 _Stella found herself in a dark command post, using the light from switches, knobs, and buttons surrounding her to read the notes in front of her. She squinted at them and, with a little work, was able to make out the Greek characters, written in the dialect associated with the southern metropolitan areas of the country. She felt the hard plastic of her earpiece and listened to the shuffling feet of her team as they found their places outside. She immediately knew where she was: this was the big heist in Athens with Nick and Theo where they'd annihilated seventeen rival family members for control of the warehouse._

 _But one look around the command post told her she seemed to be running the mission alone. The moment was fleeting, but she found that she wasn't surprised._ More for me then _, she heard her own voice echo in her head, but it had a harder note to it. Then she caught a glimpse of her face in a sliver of chrome detailing- Daria._

 _Part of her jumped, startled by those cold blue eyes staring her down once more, but another part of her that seemed to shove the other one away was calm, even a little excited as it anticipated what they both knew was going to happen next._

 _"We need to abort the mission," a tentative voice whispered in her ear._

 _"What are you talking about?" she hissed._

 _"They are inside. No one said anything about anyone being inside."_

 _"How many are there?" Even as she asked, she knew Daria couldn't have cared less. Really, it was all about practicality for her. She needed to weigh the options: if it was worth taking the extra time to kill everyone in the warehouse or postpone the mission until later when they'd be able to get in and out with no detours._

 _"I count seventeen," Koza's voice said. "I can take them out, boss."_

 _Daria's mind worked the costs and benefits at lightning speed. Or maybe she knew what she wanted despite the snag in the plan. "Light them up," she said firmly into the mic._

 _A crash boomed into her earpiece followed by angry shouts and gunfire erupted for a few seconds. She felt a lingering disappointment when it was over._

 _"Koza," Daria barked, "report."_

 _"It is done," he answered with an unsettling amount of glee that she was sure was echoed in the grin on his face and her mouth twisted into a similar smile._

Stella shot up in bed with a gasp. Her chest heaved with the effort it took just to draw a normal amount of air into her lungs. Her body was covered in sweat and her veins seemed to twist themselves with rapid surges of anxiety. She shoved a hand through her hair to feel the curls twist around her fingers, needing something tactile to remind herself of where she was. _Oh, God, s_ he thought.

"Stella?" Mac asked groggily next to her as he slid a warm hand up her back, effectively interrupting the accusations in her head, if only temporarily. "What's wrong, love?"

Through her desperate pants for air, she tried to reassure him. "Nothing. Just a bad dream."

"Come here," he said and pulled her against him so her back was flush with his chest. "You're at home with me. Everything's fine. You're okay."

She threaded her fingers through his, her palms covering the tops of his hands, and took a shaky breath. "I'm okay."

She felt his arms loosen around her a bit as he drifted off again and tried to focus on his heartbeat between her shoulder blades to calm her. Her eyes blinked heavily and closed, but not a second later, Daria sneered back at her. Even when she opened them again and looked at her reflection in the mirror above their boudoir, Daria's darkness and iciness flickered through her terrified eyes and chilled her blood.

 _I'm okay,_ she told herself, though she wasn't convinced. _Just a dream._

* * *

 _ **PWF Soundtrack: "It Will Come Back"- Hozier**_

 _ **A/N: I'm changing up the timeline just a bit. If you happened to see the 9/11 tribute episode in season 8 (which was amazing and featured Mac and Claire listening to N*Sync while getting ready for work -*fangirl squeal*), insert the scene from the episode where Mac throws the opera tickets into the Hudson before he and Stella leave for the cabin. There will be some other small nods to the show's timeline as we go along, so bear with me and go with it if they're out of order.**_


End file.
